


Yes, I am a Spirit like you

by braidedbootstraps



Category: Barbie as The Princess and the Pauper (2004), Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: I wrote this in an essay stress fueled extravaganza a three am, M/M, One Shot, aziraphale as erica, crowley as princess analise, cute ass fluffy singing, enjoy, mlm, musical numbers, we made aziraphale way more forward for the sake of pulling this off but shhh its worth it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:22:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21755980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/braidedbootstraps/pseuds/braidedbootstraps
Summary: Prince Crowley spots the mysterious beggar with shimming awe around him at the market, and a beautiful friendship ensues. Aziraphale/Crowley. Good Omens meets Barbie: the Princess and the Pauper. The 'I am a girl like you' number but it's our favorite ineffable husbands. One-shot. Fluff.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Yes, I am a Spirit like you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [freshcinnamonroll](https://archiveofourown.org/users/freshcinnamonroll/gifts).



> I wrote this at 3am in a tempest of caffeinated inspiration and you know what? I'm right and I should say it. For darling Marioli.

In the late afternoon, amongst the crowds at market, a hooded figure stepped from the shadows. They lowered the hood of their cloak for a moment to tilt their head to the sun, as a reptile basks, and the light immediately caught on the scarlet head of the crown prince.

In a more popular part of town, this would have gotten Crowley to be noticed by someone; a member of his guardians court perhaps, or a more eager part of the middle classes in this city. He was certainly a well-loved prince. He played his part well, as the beloved adopted son and single heir of a kingdom on the brink of bankruptcy. He was in such a position to create mischief as he hadn’t been in decades. 

But today was his day off. His one companion, that mortal boy Julian, hadn’t required much in the way of temptation. He’d merely suggested the vaguest political hesitation in regards to his imminent marriage, and the boy had jumped at the chance to take them outside the castle walls. 

It wasn’t as if Crowley couldn’t have found himself out here, amongst regular humans, in the blink of an eye if he wanted. It was just that… distracting the lad was such fun. Hell knows he’d been having a hard enough time coming up with things for him to do.

Julian had stepped away for a moment to find them food, and had warned the young prince not to reveal himself. But, Crowley reflected with a glance into a shop windows reflection, a look this good was a sin to waste unseen. 

His flame-red curls were in a longer style, pulled fashionably back from his brow with golden links. A gold diadem rested across his eyes, hung with black jewels that glinted low across gaze. A passerby might have sworn there was a glint of piercing yellow amongst the black, although they couldn’t say for certain. As for his habit, his favorite black waistcoat, accented with crimson threading, and black trousers, shoes and silk stockings, and heavy charcoal cloak.

As he was admiring the overall effect, a slight harmony in the crowd caught his ear. He spun, jewels glinting. He knew that music. That sound was heavenly music, a near-perfect harmony and unheard on earth for a thousand years.

Pushing forward through the crowds, that here paid little notice if they knew him at all, he came into the center of the market square. Here was a low drinking fountain, and small group of peasants had gathered around the owner of the enchanting voice.

Before the fountain was a man in cloak much like Crowley's own. He stood, smiling pleasantly to a dumbfounded Crowley as he sang. His tune was a simple one and a tin can sat at his feet inviting donations, but there was no doubt about it. Although the mortals around him seemed unaware, this was one of the Angels. 

The Angel had a head of white-blonde hair that stuck up at a sweet quiff along his temple. The clothes beneath his cloak were a poor man’s set (Crowley rolled his eyes; how like the higher powers to take up the ‘good samaritans’ act). Yet, they were not at all unlike Crowleys in terms of cut and shape, though in cream and beige. He found himself admiring the figure that glanced about him, giving a gentle smile to each spectator in the crowd.

At last, the angel's eyes landed on Crowley. They smiled with recognition, and Crowley’s heart stumbled in his throat. ‘Instinct, that’s all’ he murmured to himself, ruffling his cloak. Still, he thought he could detect an indulgent smile in the angel's voice as they finished their song.

The transfixed crowd broke into general applause and somewhat flustered- flustered, the angel bowed and waved a little, thanking those who came forward to donate profusely. That, Crowley would admit, was interesting.

So he sidled up, and the angel’s posture changed. He was recognized for what he was too, then. There’d be no pretending. 

“...don’t suppose you’re planning on keeping that?” He nodded to the can of pennies and the angel looked at him reprehensively.

“Not that it’s your business, but no. Actually I-” he turned a little pink. 

“... I’m giving it away.” he said quietly. 

“You’re what?” Crowley turned, brows raised towards the angel who had absolutely turned a shade or pink. A delicate, delicious shade of pink.

“Oh I’m giving it away! Alright? If you haven’t noticed we’re experiencing a bit of an economic crisis here at the moment.” He leveled Crowley a sour look. “Your royal highness.”

“Eh don’t blame me for that, alright? Bit of trouble up at.. You know, head office or something. Anyway, they’re trying to sort it out. It doesn’t serve the dastardly plan any more than it does the noble one for everyone to start starving, funnily enough. They’d rather everyone got drunk on riches. Much more conducive a state for temptation.” 

He didn’t know why he was telling the angel this. He could even get in trouble for it, if he then told everything Crowley was saying to the people upstairs. But he got the impression the angel in front of him wouldn’t do that.

“Speaking of sorting it out, I’m savoring the taste of freedom, you know. Getting married to the king next week.”

“Oh” the angel turned a little to regard him properly, and Crowley felt his blasted immortal heart turn over, again. “... congratulations. There are worse things you know”

He trailed off a little and stared into the crowds around them, and almost nudging Crowley asked “Worse things?”

The angel smiled a little and sang “If I’d like to do some pointless good, Gabriel will make me pay. And I have to do the paperwork, and you know, that takes all day!”

Crowley’s answering laugh, which he really couldn’t help, seemed to encourage him and his hands were on his hips in a heartbeat. “It’s boring yet, I can’t regret, the joys that we create! But in my head I’m back in bed snuggled up and sleeping late.”

“Is that right?” Crowley murmured, and the angel, who was frankly the most interesting example of his kind he’d seen in millenia, if he’d ever met such an angel… snuggled up in bed, for evil's sake? 

The angel nodded “Really. But it’s alright.” He looked a little wistful as he added “I mean, I’m used to it.” 

Crowley nodded in return, as though this were an entirely normal conversation to be having with his immortal enemy, and the angels sharp eyes shimmered. “And you?”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. Alright, he’d play. 

“I like to use what tools I have to inflict these mortals ill. I corrupt and bargain, tease and while away my master’s will! And whilst I work, I like to lurk, in places strange and gay. But I’d rather be in my menagie caring for my plants all day.”

The angel beamed “I’m just like you!” Crowley’s heart fluttered as he twirled half a step around him. 

“You’re just like me. There’s somewhere else we’d rather be. Somewhere that’s ours- somewhere that dreams come true, yes I am a spirit like you!”

Crowley watched in amazement as in his excitement the angel jumped half a step on the steps on the fountain. “You’d never think that it was so- but now I’ve met you and I know! It’s plain as day sure as the sky is blue, yes I am a spirit like you!”

Crowley scowled a little, but struggled to keep back the smile that the angel so frankly seemed to offer in return “So… why the singing?”  
“Oh” the angel laughed, looking slightly ascanse “Well I… needed something to do. And it’s actually such a joy to-” he faltered for a heartbeat, and the reality of who he was speaking to came back at once. “I don’t expect a demon to understand”

“No! No I do actually, I love singing” Crowley hurried, stepping forward “Well, I can’t sing. Not like you anyway…” shoving his hands in his pockets, he offered “You were lovely, up there.”

The angel nearly glowed in response “Why, thank you” 

“Is that what you’re doing down here then? Brightening peasants everyday lives?”

“No…” the angel huffed a little and gestured to Crowley’s cloak. “It wasn’t my prerogative, but.. I’m here to exert divine preferences in tailoring. God has opinions, it turns out, in the embroidery of mens fronts. A ‘bright and gay’ apperance is nessesary to the kingdom and in...in being a tailoring apprentice, I’m doing my very best, but-”

“You made this?” Crowley fell open-mouthed as he gestured to his waistcoat. “An angel made this?”

“Yes- though I suspect the higher ups won’t be pleased to hear of a demon perverting the divine aspect” the angel muttered. “I tailored that very waistcoat”

“You never did- it looks so bloody complicated.” Crowley twirled around and the angel chuckled in a way that sounded like bells. A musicality came back into his voice.

“Oh, but it isn’t really. First I choose a fabric from the rack and I suppress the urge to gloat. Then I sew it til the morning light, and it turns into, a waistcoat!”

Crowley laughed brightly and danced in circles, cloak twirling “I wear my clothes, and heaven knows, I dance around my room! And imagine life without the strife of an unfamiliar groom.”

A softer silence fell and his feet came to a stop. He turned to find the angel looking him with frankly, a heart-breaking gentleness. 

He found himself murmuring “I could never let the other demons know. I wouldn't… disappoint them”

The angel extended his hand. “I completely understand.”

And just like that, Crowley understood that they were speaking the truth. Tentatively, he took a step, and they spun hand in hand.  
“I’m Just like you-”  
“I think that’s true”  
“You’re just like me”  
“Yes I can see-”

They spun faster, and the glamour that came from the sheer spark of their two energies meeting seemed to fill the whole square. The whole kingdom, even the world. “We take responsibility”

“We carry through-”  
“We carry through”

The two began a paced walk, up the fountain steps and back again, in mock bow and courtship, laughing, “Do what we need to do, yes I am a spirit like you”

“I’m just like you!”  
“I’m just like you!”  
“You’re just like me!”  
“You’re just like me!”

The dance, for that was what it had become, as easily as wine spilling from a cup, as laughter pours out, or the wind rises, began to slow. The both of them came slowly back into the world at what seemed the same time. “It’s something anyone can see.”

Gently, Crowley bent to press a light kiss to the back of the angels hand, still in his own, before lifting that hand above their heads “A heart that beats”

The angel turned inwards, spinning gracefully “A heart that beats”

Pulling into the last step, Crowley looked at the Angel, noticing that in dancing they’d become a touch breathless. For a second, he let the moment remain as it was, before pulling back into a bow his partner mirrored.

“A voice that speaks the truth. Yes, I am a spirit like you”

When he looked up, the angel was smiling indulgently at him again, but this time… there was a preoccupied glint in his eye. He extended a hand. “Aziraphale.”

Crowley offered his more hellish of grins. “Crowley.”


End file.
